


the weight of your love

by boxesofflowers, Eeyoreneedsahug



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Caring Even Bech Næsheim, Chronic Illness, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Russ - Freeform, Sick Isak Valtersen, Sickfic, anemia, aplastic anemia, third year Isak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 03:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxesofflowers/pseuds/boxesofflowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eeyoreneedsahug/pseuds/Eeyoreneedsahug
Summary: It all started in the fall of Isak’s third year. He was grumpier than normal - not that anyone other than Even could really pick up on that. That was the first thing Even can remember going wrong. After that, it all seemed to fall like dominoes. Isak is sick and they just have to keep on going.





	the weight of your love

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I just got back from college so Poe mostly wrote this. Sickfic! Yay!
> 
> We also went to a BROCKHAMPTON concert on Friday so if anyone wants to hear about that/talk about what's been going on feel free:)

It all started in the fall of Isak’s third year. He was grumpier than normal - not that anyone other than Even could really pick up on that. That was the first thing Even can remember going wrong. After that, it all seemed to fall like dominoes. Headaches and being too tired to get out of bed and cold hands - though Isak’s hands and feet were always pretty cold. Even used to tease him about it. 

So he was cold and pale and tired and dizzy but he always brushed it off. But Even knew it was getting to him. It wasn’t really commonplace for Isak to start a fight over stupid shit like forgotten groceries or dirty dishes. 

He'd get bloody noses too, which didn't seem so insane at the time but now make a lot more sense. That and the bruises he'd always have for seemingly no reason. They always had pretty rough sex, if Even is honest, but Isak never got actual bruises. Well, once. 

He’d get really embarrassed about the bleeding especially. Even didn’t find out until after the fact, but the inside of his mouth would bleed too sometimes, not just his nose. 

It was the middle of October when things started to get too bad to ignore. Isak always had a shitty immune system, but lately, he’d been sick almost constantly. And that was apart from all the other shit. 

So on the third day of a 39-degree fever Even made the executive decision that enough was enough.

“It's fine, Ev,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and weak and exactly the opposite of what Even wished it was. He was propped up in bed, pale and shivering, eyes half-way lidded. He looked like death and Even had no doubt he felt like it too.

“It's not fine. This is insane,” he said and Isak let out a heavy, strained sigh, which only led to a fit of coughing that left him clutching his ribs and with tears in his eyes. Even had dealt with sick Isak before. Many times, in fact. But this was different. This time, he just wasn't getting any better.

That was separate from the other things that were all going wrong too.

“It's just a cough or something, it's not a big deal,” he argued back, though his physical appearance wasn't exactly helping his case. 

Even remembers that tram ride to Ulleval so well. Like it was yesterday. It was around 5 PM, so the tram was packed and they had to stand, Even holding the younger boy tight to his chest, his warm, weak arms wrapped lazily around Even’s waist, his hot forehead burning a hole in Even’s shoulder. 

Even’s not sure he’s ever been that worried about anything in his life. So worried it made him want to throw up. 

Now, 6 months later, it feels like everything’s changed. 

“Can we please have sex?” The question makes Even blurt out a laugh. He rubs his eyes, still half asleep, and rolls over to face his boyfriend. He looks so angelic lying there - his blonde curls all fanned out on the white pillowcase, the early morning light making his skin glow gold. When Even doesn’t say anything, the younger boy raises his eyebrows, pouting just a little bit. God, he knows exactly how to make Even fold.

“Right now?” he asks, and Isak nods, eyes half-lidded and still drunk with sleep. His tired fingers card through Even’s hair. Even kisses the corner of his mouth softly. Always softly. “I don’t think we should,” he says quietly, and Isak rolls his eyes.

“Why not?” He asks, and though he’s trying to hide it Even can hear the genuine hurt in his voice. He runs his thumb over the younger boy’s cheek - so lightly he’s barely touching the skin. He goes slow. Slow so he doesn’t have to answer.

“You have chemo,” he says, and Isak huffs out a breath.

“Exactly,” he breathes, his eyebrows forming the little crease between them he gets when he’s annoyed. Even laughs quietly, a smirk forming on his face.

“I’m not following.” Isak raises his eyebrows, giving him a pointed look.

“If I’m starting chemo, this is our last chance to like...fuck,” he says, and Even rolls his eyes, suppressing another laugh.

“How so?” Isak pushes himself up onto his elbows, still looking half exasperated and half asleep. He runs a hand through his hair.

“I’m gonna be on chemo for like two weeks straight, then I’m getting my transplant, then I’m in recovery for another month.” When Even doesn’t respond, Isak sighs exaggeratedly. “Chemo sucks, Even. You’ve seen movies. I’ve seen movies. Dr. Olsen told us. I’m gonna be totally fucked up for two months. If we don’t have sex like right now it’s gonna be forever until we can again.”

“I’ll still blow you when you’re bald and gross.”

“Blowjobs are not sex, Even. Sex is sex.”

“Ok so, are you ready then? Like...are you -”

“Yeah, always.”

They shower together afterward. Their shower is unequivocally too small for two people, but they’ve been making it work for a little more than a year now, so they’ve learned how to navigate around the small space. 

Normally showering after sex would just turn into Isak giving really awkward head, but today Even is too focused on what’s going to be happening only hours from now. Sitting next to his boyfriend while poison is pumped into his bloodstream. 

They’ve been preparing for this for months, sure, but that doesn’t make it easier. 

They listen to music together on the tram, each wearing one headphone.

It all goes exactly as it’s supposed to. It takes three hours. They watch a movie on a little LCD screen built into the wall - some old superhero thing from a few years ago - just to kill the time, and maybe Even is imagining it but he thinks he can see all the light draining out through the tubes embedded in his chest. Draining him until there’s almost nothing left.

There are a few important things he learns in the first two days with chemo-Isak. 

His favorite color of Gatorade is red but he can only drink about a half bottle before the taste makes him sick. His favorite soup is chicken with lemon, ginger, and rice, and it’s the only food that doesn’t come back up. Never wake him up from a nap, it doesn’t end well. Always keep an extra hoodie lying around because he’s always cold. Kissing too hard somewhere too soft leaves ugly bruises. People on the tram may be very concerned but nobody has the guts to say anything out loud. And lastly, and probably most importantly, he needs him. He needs Even so bad. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he says as the younger boy’s eyes open slowly. Isak doesn’t reply, just closes his eyes again and curls himself tighter under the comforter. Usually, that would be a sign that he’s grumpy - he doesn’t feel like getting up. Now, he knows it’s because he’s tired and he’s cold and he needs him. 

He walks over to the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, and rests a hand on Isak’s shoulder through the blankets. Isak makes a little sound at the back of his throat.

“We gotta eat before the appointment,” Even says quietly, and Isak lets out a heavy sigh, his body shuddering with it. 

It was hard enough dealing with anemic Isak for 6 months - he had about a third of the energy he had before, and his stomach was always fucked from his iron supplements - but that at least felt somewhat normal. Like everything was ok. 

“Hey, if we eat fast we can go to Hanshaugen,” he offers, and Isak pokes his head out from his cocoon of blankets. He blinks lazily.

“Hanshaugen?” He mumbles. Even runs his fingers through the younger boy’s hair.

“Yeah. It’s not too far. We can go to KB too if you want,” he says, hands still carding through his curls. 

“But I have to get up right now?” He asks and Even nods. He rolls his eyes. 

“Either way you have to eat.”

“Me?” He asks incredulously.

“Us,” Even allows.

“Because I know you haven’t eaten yet today,” Isak says, and Even sighs.

“You’re right. We have to eat.”

10 minutes later they’re sitting together in bed, each with a bowl of chicken and rice soup, watching Seinfeld. Isak is mostly picking at his but Even won’t comment for now. 

“Do we have to go to Hanshaugen?” He finally asks, and Even frowns. 

“No, not if you don’t want to. I just was offering.”

“It’s just kind of far of a walk and I -”

“Yeah, of course. It’s ok. We can get KB though. I want KB,” he says, and Isak smiles. They keep eating in quiet for a while before Even speaks up. “We’re almost halfway done. Today is half.”

“Yeah but I’m just going to keep feeling worse. It's just going to get worse.”

Isak sleeps in the waiting room.

His blood pressure is low and he passes out when they take his blood but it isn't the first time that's happened. Still, they make him sit there and drink orange juice before they're allowed to leave. 

Everyday checkups may be exhausting but both of them prefer the tram ride to Isak staying in the hospital for two weeks. When he was first diagnosed, he stayed for almost three weeks and neither of them want a repeat of that. 

Even the small excursion absolutely drains Isak. 

“My head hurts,” he mumbles when they're finally home and he's curled back up in one of Even's hoodies. 

“It's because you're dehydrated,” he says, and Isak huffs softly. 

“I hate this,” he says, and Even can hear his voice starting to shake with tears. 

“I know, babe.”

“Everyone else is out there doing Russ and getting drunk and having a great time and I'm in here.”

“I'm not fun?” Even teases, and Isak sighs.

“That's not what I mean.”

“I know. It sucks. But being dehydrated isn't going to make it more fun.” 

Isak takes a sip from the half-full Gatorade bottle on the nightstand and sinks further into the pillows. Even can still see the tears welling up in his eyes.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry this has to happen,” he says, and Isak clears his throat, swiping his wrist over his eyes.

“It's ok. Like you said, half over. Then all this bullshit can end.”

Later that night, when Isak is bent over the toilet, dry heaving and dizzy, Even wonders how they'll get through another day of this, let alone another week.

The smaller boy leans back against his chest, letting out a small hiccuped sob, and Even tightens his grip. He's out of breath from retching and it sapped what little energy he had left, leaving him limp and lightheaded. Eventually, Even picks him up and carries him back to bed. He's lost a lot of weight through all of this, despite Even’s best efforts.

The next morning they take a bath together. Again, the tub is way too small - even one of them is pushing it, not to mention two - but Isak refuses to do it alone. Really, he refuses to do anything without Even.

“One day...we’ll have our own house,” Isak whispers, so quiet Even almost doesn't catch it. He runs his thumb over Isak's knuckles. 

“Yeah?” He asks, and Isak nods tiredly, eyelids fluttering.

“Mm. We’ll have a really big house with a big bathtub.” That makes Even laugh.

“This bathtub is cozy.”

“I want a big yard with a tree and outdoor furniture and inside we’ll have a big kitchen with really nice windows.” The water is starting to get cold, and Isak is shivering.

“Yeah, of course we will.”

“Mm. Do you ever...do you ever get worried that I might...you know.”

“No. Not for one minute.”

“I do.”

At their appointment that afternoon, they prescribe a new anti-nausea drug that's supposed to help him keep things down. They also give him a transfusion after he mentions he’s been having nosebleeds again, which Even didn’t realize. 

It's been three days since his last chemo treatment, and he always feels so much better after a transfusion, so they're able to sit at a KB for a while and relax. Just like they used to. They're not supposed to, technically, because in theory he could contract some awful virus and die on the spot, but he's on so much immune strengthening medication that seems unlikely. Plus, Even’s sure that Isak would rather die than spend the rest of the next week cooped up in the apartment in bed.

“Oh my gosh! Isak! Halla!” It's Ingrid, of all people. Even’s met her maybe once, but he’s heard the whole story of the drama that went on in first year. She’s wearing her bright red overalls and Even’s stomach twists. Isak gives her a weak little smile.

“Halla. How’s uh -” She cuts him off before he can finish.

“We heard you have cancer,” she says, and Even feels his expression harden. 

“It’s not cancer,” the two of them say almost simultaneously, and Isak laughs. “What...why did you think that I uh…” he mumbles, and Ingrid looks unfazed.

“I heard someone say you were having chemotherapy. That’s why you weren’t on your van. What kind of cancer is it?”

“It’s not cancer, and he’s fine,” Even says, trying hard to keep his voice neutral.

“Then what’s going on?” She asks, scoffing. “You don’t look sick.”

“It’s a blood disorder. He has to get a transplant. It’s complicated,” Even says, and she nods.

“Ok. Just wondering. Aren’t you like mad you can’t do Russ? This is a once in a lifetime thing.”

Before Isak can reply, Ingrid’s name is called at the drink counter, and she waves a quick goodbye. They sit there in silence for a while, Isak staring down at his tea, Even holding one of his pale hands - they’re so much thinner than they used to be. 

“Russ isn’t important to me, ya know,” Isak finally says, and Even nods, tucking one of his curls behind his ear. He really hopes he doesn’t lose his hair. Dr. Olsen says it’ll probably happen this week if it’ll happen at all, and even though Even’s told Isak a thousand times that he’ll be just as attractive without his hair, he really wants it to stay.

“You have your whole life to drink and party and wear overalls if you want to,” Even says, and Isak smirks. “And this shitty few weeks is what’s going to make that possible.” They’re quiet for a little while longer before Isak looks up from his drink.

“You really don’t get nervous? About all this? That it won’t work out?”

“No. Never. I’m...I know you’ll be ok.”

He remembers the first bone marrow biopsy Isak had, back in October. He was still being diagnosed, and the doctors were in a rush to figure out what was wrong. Apparently, they’re always painful but Even’s never seen Isak in more pain than he was during that procedure. There was a huge needle and only local anesthesia, and afterward, his eyes were puffy and hot from crying so hard. 

One thing Even’s learned over the past year or so being with Isak is that he has a pretty strong protective streak. He knows Isak can handle himself, he knows Isak isn’t that much younger, but it doesn’t shut down that instinct to...protect him. To hold him really tight and make sure nothing happens to him.

So seeing a quarter inch thick needle stuck in his femur wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

But he wasn’t lying when he said he’s never been nervous Isak’s going to die. He doesn’t know why. He should be, frankly, but he just isn’t. Maybe he loves him too much, maybe he’s in denial, he doesn’t know. Either way, all of this feels like a speed bump, not a dead end. Never a dead end. 

Even’s had to take more time off of school, but he’s still scheduled to graduate on time. Isak is too. He’s still deciding where to go to college - he got into a school in America. He hasn’t told Even, the only reason he knows is from seeing the acceptance letter on their kitchen counter. He had no idea Isak wanted to move to America. 

They’ll figure it out when things are better. Right now, they’re both pretty occupied with chemo and bone marrow transplants and blood transfusions.

They leave the KB a few minutes later, and by the time they get to the tram, Isak is shivering and Even can tell he’s dizzy, but all the seats are full. Rush hour, no wonder, but he knows Isak needs to sit or he’s going to pass out. He leaves Isak clutching one of the yellow poles and makes his way to the handicap seat. 

“Hi, ma’am, my boyfriend is going through chemotherapy and he needs a seat, would you mind -”

“Where is he?” She asks shortly and Even nods his head toward where Isak is standing. The younger boy gives a tiny wave. “Are you joking?”

“No. Are you?” he asks.

“Look, you can’t lie to get the handicap seat,” another man says, and Even raises his eyebrows.

“You can have mine,” an older woman says from behind him, and Even turns around, smiling. 

“Thank you.” Isak, about as red as a tomato, takes a seat and Even tries to focus back on him and not on the woman gossiping behind them. 

“...he hasn’t even lost his hair…” he hears the woman whisper, and he grits his teeth. Isak looks up at him, giving him a little smile.

“It’s ok,” he mouths and Even nods, even though his blood is boiling. 

“...and since when is cancer a handicap?” He hears, and it takes all his strength not to turn around and curse her out. By the time they get off the tram, his jaw aches from gritting his teeth.

Isak climbs back into bed the minute they’re at the apartment and is asleep only a few minutes later. Even spends the free time organizing all the medication for the next week, then heating up more soup. 

They watch a movie when he gets up, his back resting against Even's chest, and each eat their share of soup. Isak manages a little bit of bread too, which Even is way too happy about.

Isak has another chemo treatment the next day, and afterward, he's considerably worse. Probably the worst Even’s seen him in a while. Since he was diagnosed. He's pretty obviously dizzy and uncomfortable but besides that, he’s also sort of spaced out. Almost delirious. He can't keep any of his thoughts or words straight. All that is of course beside the fact he's aching all over and shivering nonstop and barely strong enough to get out of bed.

When he first got sick, he'd get annoyed if Even babied him too much. Now, he has no reservations. He practically begs Even to baby him and Even is more than glad to oblige.

He's wearing one of the extra “Los Losers” hoodies Noora had printed for Russ, lying propped up in bed and clutching a mug of tea. Even's working on an assignment for his art history class at the dining table, the sound of some YouTube series playing quietly in the background. 

“Ev?” He asks softly, and Even immediately perks up. “Can you come here?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, dropping his pen and climbing up onto the bed, wrapping an arm around the younger boy's trembling shoulders. He sighs, letting his eyes flutter closed.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and Even presses a kiss to his temple. The younger boy curls closer to him, letting out a sleepy little sigh.

“You're so gorgeous,” Even whispers, and Isak laughs weakly.

“Shut up.”

“I'm serious. I love you.” Isak cranes his neck to look up at him, his eyebrows raised. He really does look beautiful, even with bags under his eyes and chapped lips. They just look at each other for a while, Even’s fingers carding through his hair slowly. Gently.

“I love you too,” Isak finally whispers back, his whole body weight resting against Even’s side. He seems so overwhelmingly fragile, like one wrong touch could break him into a million pieces. 

The morning of the transplant, they take a cab to Ulleval, Isak clutching Even’s hand the whole way. They’ve been preparing for this for months, and Even’s not really sure what’s going to happen afterward. He’ll be in recovery, but other than that...it all seems fuzzy. Everything they’ve learned to deal with for the last 6 or 7 months is going to be over. And of course that’s great, but in a way it’s bittersweet. Mostly sweet. 99% percent. 

The transplant takes only about an hour and works like one of the blood transfusions Isak gets so often anyway. They're home only an hour later, and it's then Even realizes he has about 40 texts from a group chat he doesn't remember joining.

After Isak's asleep, he reads through the thread and is glad Isak isn't awake to see the smile slowly forming on his face.

Around five days after the transplant is the 17th of May. Isak's on strong immunosuppressants, but other than that he's feeling the best he has in months. He’s weak, but he’s alright. It’s a healing-weak, not a deterioration like it’s been for so long. 

They sleep late, and Even smiles when he sees the soft pink flush back in Isak’s cheeks and lips. His warm skin against cold white sheets, soft fingertips, and light curls. It’s something he sees every morning, but today it seems so much different. Brighter. Fuller. Warmer. 

Isak thinks they'll just be going to the parade and then back home afterward but Even has bigger plans. Better plans.

They each get dressed in their bunad that morning and get ice cream from a street vendor. Isak watches the parade from his spot against Even’s chest, Even dropping kisses on the top of his head. It's a nice day. Isak is happy. But Even knows he can be happier. 

He sees it as soon as they get to their street - two red vans, a group of people in red overalls gathered on the sidewalk. Isak seems confused, maybe even annoyed at first, before he sees who the people in the overalls are. 

“Hip hip!” Even shouts and they all shout back.

“Hoorah!” 

Isak laughs, covering his face with his hands and Even buries his face in his curls. He presses a kiss there, and Isak lets out a little sob. 

Jonas pulls them into a hug, followed by Sana and Noora and Eva and Vilde and Chris, then the rest of the boys, and Isak is making the little sounds he makes when he’s trying not to cry. 

They hang out on the sidewalk the rest of the day, listening to music and drinking and laughing and fucking around like they always do whenever they’re all together. And Isak seems happy. Really genuinely happy. He even has half a beer - which he shouldn’t, but Even lets it go. 

That night, lying in bed, they’re quiet. Until Isak speaks up.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” he whispers, and Even shakes his head.

“It was everyone else’s idea,” he whispers back, and Isak rolls his eyes.

“Yeah but I know you orchestrated it. Maybe it was their idea but you’re a control freak,” he teases and Even laughs softly.

“That might be right.” They’re both quiet again. “You deserve to have everything you want. Everything that makes you happy.”

Isak rolls over to face him, his expression serious and Even has a moment of panic.

“You make me happy,” he says carefully, straight-faced.

“I know you were upset you couldn’t see your friends. I know these past few weeks have been shitty.”

“Yeah, of course I like my friends, but you’re...you’re my best friend. You...got me through this. All of it. I don’t...There’s no one else I love as much as you. And I don’t think there’s anyone who loves me as much as you love me. But that’s not the point. The point is I’m happy as long as you’re with me. You’re saying I deserve everything I want - I want you.”

“But there are other things too.”

“Obviously. But like you said, I can drink with my friends for the rest of my life if I want to. It’s temporary. You...last. Just please, don't ever think you need to give me anything for me to be happy. It’s great, it’s all great, but don’t think I’m not happy.”

He rests his head on Even’s chest, and he feels a little surge of warmth.

“I'm happy,” Isak repeats, and Even presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

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